


Tiredness

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Male Friendship, Possibly Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, if you wear your gay goggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 03:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock, an insomniac, hadn't slept for days. John got worried and decided to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiredness

Sherlock didn't sleep regularly, and that night was no exception for his insomnia. He used the excuses of "I'm not tired" and "I don't need sleep, I just need to think", when in reality, he just _couldn't_ sleep. The detective had his face buried on a pillow, nearly crying from sheer tiredness. After a while with his face in the soft pillow, he got up from his bed and got out of the room, moving to the kitchen, because he thought maybe some tea would help him get to sleep. While he was in the kitchen, he heard a small whimper coming from upstairs. "Is that... John?" He thought, quirking one eyebrow.  
He turned off the kettle and quietly left the flat, going up the stairs to John's room. Knocking on the door (he had been yelled at so many times for not respecting his privacy that he learned to knock first), Sherlock talked through the wood.  
"John? Is everything alright?" He heard nothing. A few seconds later, he heard a cry. It was John, yelling. He barged into the room, looking around to see what caused his shout. Laying eyes upon his flatmate, he noticed the sweat, the furrowed brows, the heavy breathing... nightmare. Sherlock partially relaxed, thinking that there had been someone in there or something equally dangerous. The detective moved to the edge of John's bed and awkwardly stood in silence for a few moments.  
"Do you want some tea?" He asked him quietly and John nodded in response, not looking up at him.  
Sherlock left the room and went back downstairs, moving to the kitchen. He put the kettle back on and prepared the mugs. When he was done, he leaned against the counter with a sigh. The ravenette was worried about John, he hated when he had nightmares, because he would be all grumpy and sad for the first hours of the next day, and Sherlock hated that. Even if he thought it strange when he woke up all happy, he rather have a happy!John then grumpy!John. He was abruptly interrupted from his thoughts when said John came downstairs. He ruffled his hair and looked at Sherlock, entering the kitchen without saying a word and sat down on the chair oposite from the detective's, still quiet. The room remained silent until the kettle went off, Sherlock going to turn it off and pour the water into the already prepaired mugs, sliding John's over to him and sipping from his own.  
Bothered by the heavy silence, Sherlock sat down on the chair next to him and faced John, drinking from his mug again.  
"Was it Afghanistan again?" He inquired, voice low.  
"Yeah. It's fine, I can deal with it. It's just that... it's been a while since I've had a nightmare." He admitted with a shrug, drinking a big gulp of tea.  
Sherlock nodded at him and craddled the mug in his hands, looking inside of it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He felt a yawn coming and wasn't able to suppress it, his jaw cracking open and he yawned loudly. He decided to pretend as if it didn't happened, maybe John would do the same.  
"Why aren't _you_ sleeping?" He asked, tilting his head to the side a bit.  
"Don't want to."  
"Why not?" He quirked up one eyebrow.  
"Not tired." Sherlock shrugged.  
"Sherlock, you _just_ let out a yawn. Tell me the truth." John rolled his eyes.  
The detective hesitated before looking away from John to answer. "I have insomnia. Haven't slept for four days." He ran a hand through his hair and kept looking down.  
"God, Sherlock. Four days? Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, looking at him worriedly.  
"It's fine. Don't worry about me. I'm fin--" He yawned again. His body was starting to anger him. First, he couldn't sleep, then it made him exhausted? Didn't seem logical or fair.  
John rolled his eyes again. "Obviously you're not fine. Look, finish your tea. I know something that might help."  
Sherlock raised his eyebrow and looked up to face John with doubt written all over his face.  
"Harry has insomnia too. I know a thing or two about helping. And not to mention that I'm a doctor, _your_ doctor."  
Well. It wouldn't harm to try something. Maybe it would help. God knows he would take just about anything to get some sleep.  
They both finished their cups of tea and set them on the sink, and John gestured to Sherlock so he would follow him to the sitting room.  
Sherlock walked behind John, going to the sofa and sitting next to him. John crossed his legs and sat with his back to the arm rest, looking at Sherlock.  
"Lay down with your head on my lap. Don't look at me weird, just do it." He quickly said, before Sherlock could object. His mind went _oh, to hell with it_ and he did as he was told, laying with his head on John's lap. Sherlock closed his eyes, not really knowing what to expect, when suddenly he felt John's fingers tangling in his hair and moving around the top of his head. A scalp massage then. Sherlock had to give it to him, it felt really good, and he was quite relaxed. He let out a soft moan and blushed crimson when he realized what he had done. John let out a small chuckle.  
"Feels good, right?"  
"It does." He said, a small smile on his lips.  
After about twenty minutes, Sherlock fell asleep on John's legs, who gave a smile when he heard the quiet snoring coming from Sherlock. He kept playing with his hair, noticing how soft the curls were. After a while, he yawned and stretched. Not wanting to wake Sherlock up, he decided to just lean a bit against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, falling asleep as well.


End file.
